The Bikini Diaries (32 page)

simple. That was why she'd done well working with stocks and bonds, and it was why

Walter had sent her to Emerald Shores. She hadn't succeeded in stopping it
there,
so she'd given up on stopping it here, too.

It still felt like someone had flung a spear through her heart every time she thought of Brandon, but the passing weeks had made her realize it simply wasn't meant to be. They

were, at heart, two different kinds of people. He was naturally gorgeous and successful, inside and out—whereas she had to work at it, hard. And she still didn't believe he could have cared for her very much, given the way he'd ended things.

So now the paperwork had been finalized and Walter had officially invested a major

chunk of money in Emerald Shores. Brandon's name was all over documents that littered

her desk these days. And she was trying to think of him that way—as just a name, just a

... ghost of sorts. What she'd experienced with him hadn't been real, which she'd known

from the beginning— he'd simply given her... well, a vacation from her real life, in the truest sense of the word. ,

However, she'd also thought a lot about her personal revelations in Florida. About that

sexual box she'd broken out of. She wondered if she
could
remain that new, aggressive, confident woman upon returning home. And she still didn't know. She'd been too busy—

and too hurt and upset—to find out. But tonight she was going to change all that. Because she was tired of hurting.

When she'd first fucked Brandon, she'd concluded that sex' with a stranger hadn't been

empty. She knew
now
that it hadn't been empty because of the spark between her and Brandon— the spark that had soon caught fire. But if she'd never seen him again after

that first night, maybe things would have been fine— maybe it was giving it time to catch fire that had been her mistake. And maybe
that
meant... well, that she could be just as satisfied with any other guy, just for a night.

Like Mr. No Tie sitting over there at the bar with his other semi-professional buddies.

So she took off her suit jacket and tugged at the sleeveless sweater she wore, enough to create ample cleavage. Then she subtly adjusted her skirt, hiking it up to show a bit more leg than at the office.

This was going to be harder than it had been in Florida, where she hadn't actually

approached
a guy. But her experiences at the beach had felt like sufficient training. And
one
thing definitely
had
lasted since returning home: She had continued to find herself simply enjoying other people more—feeling more confident and friendly, taking a more

sincere interest in those who crossed her path, both personally and professionally. Like it or not, she had to credit Brandon with bringing about that change.

Traversing the floor with purpose, she tried to feel the way she had at Emerald Shores—

like an outgoing, sexually confident woman who knew men wanted her. She tried to

smile into men's eyes. She couldn't tell if it was working because it simply didn't feel the same—but maybe that was because she was on her home turf, because she'd been in a

fantasyland in Florida, and making herself into someone new there had been easier.

Still, she felt her guy's eyes upon her as she drew up to the bar next to him with the

pretense of needing a drink. She "accidentally" bumped his arm, then said, "Oh, sorry,"

lowering her chin slightly and trying to look pretty and willing to flirt.

Mr. No Tie smiled. "No problem at all. My name's Matt," he said. "And you are?"

"Wendy."

He grinned. "Now I can tell my friends I met a girl named Wendy in the Windy City."

She smiled back. "Not from here?"

"New in town. On a temporary assignment for my software company. I'll be here about six months and then it's headed back to D.C. So... can I buy you a drink, Wendy in the

Windy City?"

Bingo!

Wendy climbed up onto the stool next to him and spent the next half hour talking,

drinking, and flirting with cute Matt from D.C. Turned out that besides being attractive, he was smart, funny, and likable. Maybe not in the same killer way Brandon was, but that was okay—a limited number of guys in the universe could be that hot.

I
can do this. I can fuck this guy and have a good time with him and be perfectly satisfied
when
it's over.
Although, again, she'd decided that maybe Brandon had the right idea about
one
thing—she'd make this a one-night fling. That way nobody got hurt.

"Listen," Matt said as they finished their drinks, "you want to get out of here? Have dinner, take a walk—whatever?"

She wanted to have sex with him. She'd gotten so used to daily sex with Brandon that not having it for the past two weeks had been almost physically painful. Her body ached for a man's touch, for a hard cock. So she giggled flirtatiously and said, "Let's go with whatever."

"Works for me," Matt said, and they left the bar hand in hand.

They walked leisurely along the city street, warm now that it was June, and he ran his

thumb caressingly over the back of her hand, causing her pussy to flutter. Oh God, she

needed sex; she needed it bad.

Again, she promised herself she could make it just like it had been with Brandon that first night. No muss, no fuss. A nice, hot, sexy tumble and a kiss good night—that was all she needed.

She could make herself into a city version of White Bikini Babe yet.

"My place is just a few blocks that way," Matt said, pointing. "If you want to go there.

We could... I don't know, order a pizza... or whatever."

She smiled, warming to the idea of sex with him even more. He was a nice guy. But he

wanted to fuck her, too—she could feel it. She smiled and said, "Sure. And I still vote for whatever."

On the way, though, Wendy realized that maybe she didn't want to go to his apartment.

Because he could be an ax murderer. Unlikely, but possible. So when they passed by a

small park—a place where an old building had been demolished and replaced with green

space—she drew him off the sidewalk, saying, "Come here."

He willingly followed as she led him to the most secluded corner of the empty park

Darkness had just fallen, so the setting felt private enough—especially given some of the places she'd fooled around with Brandon.

'Are you trying to put the moves on me, Wendy?" Matt asked teasingly as she drew him back against a brick wall behind a small potted tree.

She smiled up at him. "Too forward?"

His voice deepened. "Not at all. I like a woman who lets a guy know what she wants."

With that, he slid his arms around her waist and she looped hers around his neck. His

subtle cologne mixed with the natural musky scent of a guy. Yes, yes, she could do this.

She could live the fantasy—the right way this time, without getting hurt.

The first kiss felt... dry and slightly awkward, which she hadn't expected. They both bent their heads in the same direction and bumped noses, but laughed and tried to go on. Then they kissed in earnest—a longer, slower kiss. His hands splayed at. her waist, beginning to caress through her clothes, and her body responded the right way—but her mind did

not.

She sucked in her breath.
No. You can do this. You can.

When he kissed her again, she tried harder. To feel what she wanted to feel. That sense of lust and shameless abandon she'd experienced with Brandon on the beach. That sense that

she could do anything with him that she wanted and it would be all right.

But—oh God—she still didn't feel it. In fact, something in her chest shriveled.

"Hey, you okay?" Matt drew back to ask.

"Um..." God, she felt like a loser. She'd pulled him off the sidewalk into the park, after all. "I'm not sure."

He looked understandably confused, then said, 'Are you... sick or something? Need to sit down?"

She lied. It seemed simpler. "Yeah—maybe."

Fortunately, a park bench sat nearby, so Matt led her to it. And after they rested there for a minute, him being a perfect gentleman and the guy she thought she should
probably
be crazy about, she heard herself admit the truth. "You should hate me. Because I can't do this. I thought I could, but I can't. I'm... trying to get over someone. I'm... trying to learn to have casual sex.

Matt looked dumbfounded by her rank honesty. "Wow." But he was also kind, for which she was grateful. "It's, uh, nice you picked me, but I'm getting the idea you're not really in to it."

She looked into his eyes, which were brown, and sweet. "I wish I was. You seem like a great guy."

He laughed softly. "I wish you were, too. And I am a great guy. But hey, if you're not over the other dude yet, then you're not over the other dude yet. It's okay."

Matt walked her home—just a few blocks beyond his own place. By the time they parted

ways, she wanted to kick herself. He was so nice and so cute—she was crazy not to be in

to him.

But the cold, harsh reality was—sometimes passion didn't make sense; it wasn't logical, a thing you could manipulate or create. And as much as she'd wanted to feel true passion

for Matt, she hadn't. Once she'd gotten in the position to have sex with him—it had felt...

empty.

And as she rode the elevator up to her apartment, a horrible, shocking, stunning

revelation hit her—hard. Oh God.
Oh God.

What she'd had with Brandon had been real

From the very beginning.

It had never
been
"just sex."

That was why the sex had been so intense and good—from the very
start.
Why it
hadn't
felt empty.

It hadn't been about letting it catch fire—it had been about that
very first spark,
those very first moments with him. He'd simply been
right
for her. So very
right.

And she'd been so, so wrong—about so much.

Breaking out of that box hadn't been about sex—it had been about the connection she'd

experienced with another human being, about the stark, heart-wrenching intimacy. It had

been about honesty and respect and shared lust and chemistry—but all of that had been

there, clear and easy, because they'd connected, almost instantly.

When she'd walked into Volcano's that night, she had just happened to stumble,

amazingly, upon the perfect guy for her to be intimate and wild
with.
And now she knew that she'd Men for him that very night, that very
hour.
And that because of him, she wasn't sure she'd ever be satisfied or truly connected with another man again.

There is some sex that you thoroughly enjoy in
every way—
it's hot, it's powerful, it's

pleasurable, it's dirty, and it leaves you totally satiated in ways both mental and

physical.

Then there is sex that holds all of those same attributes, but somehow it happens

harder, so hard that you cease thinking—couldn't if you tried. It's mind-numbing,

thought-stealing—it turns you into nothing but a pleasure-seeking being; in those

moments, no other part of you exists. Just your body. Just your nerve endings.

Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure.

I thought maybe I could have more of that second kind
—
it sounds so easy. But the

irony is—far me to have that kind, where I cease thinking, it has to be with someone I

trust enough to completely let go.

The ultimate catch-22: To have mindless sex where all that matters is pleasure, I have

to do it with someone I love.

Lately, now, I keep thinking about the way a woman sounds when she's getting excited,

coming—how the sounds of pleasure so closely resemble the sounds of pain. How

could something so exquisite and so horrid be so closely related? Perhaps because they

lie a mere heartbeat away from each other?

Chapter14

The warm, salty breeze lifted the hair from Wendy's neck as she strolled through Bayside Village in search of dinner. She couldn't believe she was here, back at Emerald Shores.

And she hoped it wasn't a mistake.

The very morning after her blunder with Matt and her revelation about Brandon, Walter

had summoned her into his office. "Sit down, Wendy," he'd said. "I have a proposition for you, and I'd like for you to listen to it all the way through before you say anything, all right?"

It was standard Walter-speak—he often felt people asked too many questions and jumped

to too many conclusions because they reacted to things too quickly. And when she

thought about her life lately, she couldn't argue the point.

"The more I look at our new association with Emerald Shores, the more complex I find it.

And just like when we acquired The Lofts properties in Seattle, I've decided I need

someone on site to manage our holdings. I'm sure you're aware that our agreement with

Emerald Shores states that I reserve the right to place someone on their board of

directors, and I've decided to exercise that right—there's simply too much money

involved not to. And I'd like that person to be you.

"That said, your duties may stretch beyond the resort itself. I may ask you to scout out other potential investment opportunities in the area now that more of that particular coast is being so aggressively developed and, in some areas, refurbished. I may send you to

other areas of Florida from time to time for the same purpose. But starting out, you will be there primarily to protect my investment and make sure my money's being well spent I